CHAPTER IV
BEACH-HEAD
O'Malley grabbed his flight orders. He scowled at Captain Marks. Foronce the captain did not insist that he read his orders. O'Malley turnedupon his heel and strode out of the briefing room. He was met in thedarkness outside the office by an officer.
"You will fly a course over Tunis and approach Malta from due south,Lieutenant. Colonel Benson's orders. You are to make as many flights aspossible today. There will be heavy action in the straits and you are toavoid that area." The officer saluted and moved on into the briefingroom.
"Sure, an' I'll do me own settin' o' the course," O'Malley bellowed.
He was met at his plane by his master mechanic. "You have two new mentoday, sir. I have given them a few details of your course."
"An' I'll be givin' them some more," O'Malley growled as he climbedinto the cockpit.
He settled down and listened for a few minutes to the excited ordersjamming the air. Flights were heading out, bomber squadrons were callingin or taking orders. O'Malley set his phones on the beam and bentforward.
"Get ready, you birds of Ferry Flight," he called in.
"All set," came back a reply in muffled tones.
O'Malley wondered who the unlucky fliers were. Some poor saps who hadgotten in bad with Benson, he guessed. He bent down and shouted to thesergeant.
"How much ammunition have we?"
"From now on the ferry ships will be fully loaded. You may run intotrouble, sir."
O'Malley pulled in his head and kicked on the power. He snapped arelease to his mates and waited for them to get off. He had not takenthe trouble to get their names, so he could not order them off one at atime. They did not seem to need any instruction. One Lightning wheeledaround and roared away, followed closely by the other. O'Malley gruntedhis approval. The two relief men could fly.
Opening up his engines, O'Malley roared after his flight. He tried tocut across above them but had all he could do to catch up with them. Inthe gray dawn he saw that the two new men understood how to get speedout of a Lockheed P-38. Finally his two men eased over and let him slidein between them. They closed in, snuggling dangerously close.
"I'd thank ye for a bit more air," O'Malley growled.
"Are we crowding you, Commander?" a high-pitched voice asked.
"'Tis not crowdin' me, but I don't trust yer flyin' ability," O'Malleyshot back.
"You're a bit off course," an unusually gruff voice broke in.
"Sure, an' I'm flyin' this outfit," O'Malley snapped.
They were swinging east by north, which headed them for Sicily. O'Malleyscanned the skies as light began to break. Below him the strait wasalive with barges and transports. A British monitor wallowed on its way,rolling and plunging. Flight after flight of medium bombers fanned outat low level. High above, the fighter patrols were roaring towardSicily. O'Malley scowled as he scanned the scene hopefully. Not aGerman or an Italian plane in sight. It appeared that the best O'Malleywould get for setting his own course was a good view of the invasionfleet and the opening wedge of the air forces.
Suddenly the shores of Sicily appeared below, and almost at onceO'Malley was jerked out of his sour mood by a shout from one of hispilots.
"Me 110's coming down at four o'clock!"
"Protect yerselves!" O'Malley shouted eagerly. "Run fer it!"
"Shall we follow your example?" came in a mocking voice.
O'Malley started and his mouth popped open. He knew that voice! Then incame the voice of his other pilot.
"We'll do as you do, Commander. Lead on!"
"You spalpeens!" O'Malley bellowed. Then he broke out in a loud laugh."Sure, an' the Auld Man made monkeys out of you two."
There was no more time for happy reunion. Seven Messerschmitts werecoming down after the bombers. They were not interested in the threeLightnings and hoped that the Yanks flying them had not noticed anyJerries near by. In this they were very much disappointed.
Stan peeled off and banked steeply. Laying over he rolled into positionand cut out an Me. As the Jerry flashed past his sights, he opened upand his Brownings sawed a wing off the fighter. He was over and theJerry was gone before he was able to see what had happened to the enemyship. As he came up he saw that O'Malley was celebrating. He was doingmad loops and dives that threatened to drive the six Me's out of the skybefore Allison could tangle with one of them. Allison's voice came in,crisp and exasperated.
"I say, you Irisher. Lay off and let me have a chance!"
"Come on in!" O'Malley yelled back and he stalled and dived after an Me.
The three ferry pilots were finishing off the Jerries when a flight ofsix Lightnings and three Airacobras slid down from upstairs and joinedin. There was only one luckless Me left. Three had been shot down andtwo had fled. The outnumbered Jerry dived and headed for home.
Allison and Stan closed in beside O'Malley. Their leader called over tothem.
"There's a big fight on down there on that beach. Looks like the boysneeded some help to keep the Stukas away."
"We're under your orders, Commander," Stan answered.
"Sure, an' you birds stand trial right alongside o' me when we getback," O'Malley shouted back. He dived and his pals went with him.
Down they went over the invasion beach-head where sky battles raged asGerman and Italian fighter bombers tried to strafe or bomb Yank andBritish landing craft.
Stan leaned over and looked down. The scene below was a stirring one.Three battlewagons of the cruiser class lay offshore. In closer, a lineof destroyers was blazing fire and smoke as they blasted the shorebatteries of the enemy. A group of torpedo boats darted in and out,tormenting an enemy ship. Toward the shore and moving from four bigtransports came the landing barges: the personnel barges, the tankcarriers, the mechanized armament barges. In swarms they were pouringtoward the shore. In the air above, Yank and R.A.F. fighter pilotsstruggled to keep the dive bombers and the torpedo planes from gettingat the ships. This was the zero hour for the boys in the barges. Eitherthey established a beach-head or they failed at terrible cost.
Stan forgot that he was supposed to be a ferry pilot. He spotted a Stukaslipping in behind a screen of smoke rising from a burning freighter.Nosing down, he went after the Stuka. He caught a flash of O'Malley andAllison going in, too. They were needed, there was no doubt about that.The German planes were getting through.
Coming down on the bandit, Stan eased over a bit and flattened out tocome in on the bomber's tail. The Stuka was sloping down toward one ofthe transport ships. Stan kicked his throttle on full and raised hisnose until he had the bandit in his sights. His thumb pressed the gunbutton and he felt the terrific kick-back from his bank of guns. He sawthe tail and a large part of the rear compartment of the Stuka wobbleand then sheer away. Whirling crazily, smoke billowing up from its tornbody, the Stuka went down, landing with a splash close alongside thetransport. Stan went over the deck of the ship so low, he could see thegrateful Navy boys waving at him.
Swinging inshore, Stan knifed after a Focke-Wulf 190 which was strafingthe barges. He sent the 190 kiting along the tops of the waves and awayinland. Stan was hot on the tail of the Focke-Wulf. He was sure he wouldget in a burst, when suddenly a burst of flak from a ground batteryenveloped him. He felt the steel ripping through his wings. One motorbegan to stutter badly. It was then that Stan remembered he was supposedto deliver his plane to Malta in good condition.
Easing around, he climbed upward at a slow rate. He was looking forO'Malley and Allison. He spotted O'Malley by the crazy manner of hisattack against an Me 110 which had closed in upon him. Stan grinned inspite of the seriousness of their predicament. Half the tail had beenshot off O'Malley's Lightning. She was not handling very well. The Mehad a big edge. Stan went up as fast as his one crippled motor wouldtake him.
The Me pitted against O'Malley had the Irishman in a spot. He haddoubled inside O'Malley's loop and was now on his tail. Stan tried hardto power dive but got only feeble results. He waited grimly, expect
ingO'Malley to go down under a hail of Nazi lead. But O'Malley did not godown. Another Lightning came roaring down and cut the Me almost in half.Allison had been looking for O'Malley, too.
"How about hitting it for Malta, Commander?" Stan called.
"I say, old man, we better be getting out of here. The boys haveeverything under control in this sector," Allison added.
"Sure, an' we're headed for home, tuck in close an' follow me," O'Malleycalled cheerfully.
"We better cook up a good report," Stan said grimly.
"Sure, an' we got waylaid. 'Tis something could happen to anyone flyingferry planes," O'Malley answered. "Wasn't that the way it happened?"
"That is a bit of the truth, you know," Allison agreed.
"I don't know how I'll explain the flak holes I picked up. No Jerry orItalian plane ever carried five-inch guns," Stan answered.
"We met a enemy battleship," O'Malley said, unconcerned.
Stan snorted. "The Italian Navy hasn't poked its nose out of a homebase in over a year. We were supposed to be flying in close to Alliedshores."
"Sure, an' you're right," O'Malley answered cheerfully. "But I'll bethinkin' o' something, niver fear."
Stan looked down and then up. They had plunged into very soupy weatherwith low clouds and some wind. His ship was not taking it very well.Then it began to rain.
"You better be thinking of getting us in, one of my engines is about toconk out on me," he called across.
"I'm doing foine," O'Malley said. "Hear them signals coming in? That'sthe boys on Malta giving us the old signal. We'll ride right in."
They changed course, heading north. Stan began to frown. It did not seemright to be heading in that direction. Suddenly they sighted a fieldthrough the rain. O'Malley dived for the field and Stan followed withAllison close behind. They hit the runway in a drenching rain and rolledin wing to wing.
Suddenly they were confronted by four trucks. The trucks rolled out andhalted across their paths, pulling in close before them so that theLightnings could not turn around. Stan stared at the trucks. Theycertainly were not Yank or British. Then he saw squads of grinningItalian soldiers poking machine guns over the sides of the trucks.Ground men began swarming out. Everyone was smiling.
"You sure let them call you in," Stan shouted to O'Malley.
"'Twas a dirty trick, them using our signals to call us in here,"O'Malley fumed.
"Malta is just across the strait, I'll bet," Allison said. "I've heardthat the Italians use this trick, but I never thought they'd fool theIrish." There was a mocking note in Allison's voice. "We may as wellclimb down like good little boys. They have us covered with a hundredmachine guns."
"I'm getting out very carefully," Stan said. O'Malley said nothing atall, but he climbed out and joined Stan and Allison.
A group of Italian officers crowded around them. All were smiling andbowing as though welcoming the Yanks. O'Malley scowled at them, but Stangrinned back and Allison lifted a hand.
One of the Italian officers stepped forward. He spoke good English.
"You are prisoners of war, gentlemen. Come with us." He waved a handtoward the dim outline of a building.
The three Yanks were willing to move in out of the rain. They weredrenched to the skin. Before they had reached the place where they wereto be questioned the rain had ceased falling, and the sun had burstthrough the clouds. O'Malley was completely disgusted.
"Sure, an' I calls that a dirty trick. The weather is against us as wellas iverything else."
"Please be seated," the Italian officer said as they entered a largeroom.
The three Yanks sat down and waited gloomily. Three high-ranking Italianofficers entered. They spoke swiftly in their native tongue to theofficer who had escorted the boys to the room. Their words were excitedand they made many motions with their hands. O'Malley stared at themsourly. Finally the junior officer turned to the boys.
"General Bolero wishes to ask you some questions."
The general smiled as he put the questions. "We wish to know how manyplanes and how many ships you are using. Also we wish to know at whatplaces your forces plan to land."
Stan spoke up. He shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands wide.
"No one can answer those questions but our high command. We are onlyferry pilots as you will see if you examine the flight orders of ourleader." He nodded toward O'Malley.
The general turned and spoke quickly to the other officers in Italian.They looked at O'Malley and talked some more, then the general turned toO'Malley. Before he could speak, O'Malley cut in:
"What I want to know is who's responsible for the trick that was pulledon us?"
The general smiled and his medal-covered chest expanded at O'Malley'squestion.
"I am honored that you appreciate my clever trick," he said affably.
O'Malley scowled at the general. "'Tis a foul trick," he said. "I havebeen insulted an' I'll get even with you."
Stan broke in to avoid O'Malley's getting into real action against thegeneral.
"What are you going to do with us?"
"You will be flown to one of our prison camps on the mainland. You willbe treated strictly according to International Law," the generalanswered.
"How soon?" Stan asked. He was thinking the paratroopers might take overthis airfield very soon. He knew they would be hitting the coastalfields in order to give the boys spots to work from that were closer toItaly than the African coast.
"At once, at once," the general said and he seemed suddenly nervous.
"We are in no hurry, old man," Allison said and grinned.
"Ah, but we are in a very great hurry," put in the junior officer."General Bolero is leaving at once. You will be flown out in, say,twenty minutes. I am so sorry there will be no time for dry clothes." Hebowed and nodded to four soldiers armed with rifles who had appearedthrough a side door. "You will go with the guards."
A Yankee Flier in Italy Page 4